Draco Distracted
by Invisibabe
Summary: Draco has discovered the Extralucidity Potion - the ultimate aid to spying. However, when he tries it out he gets more than he bargained for. How on earth is he to concentrate on his lessons (and Quidditch!) when he can see through everyones' robes?


Everything belongs to J.K Rowling. I own nothing.

This story has hints of slash, references to self-abuse, and lots of nudity. If you are likely to be upset by any of these, please don't read any further.

Thanks to Anya (Eversoslightly Mad) for beta reading.

***

Draco Malfoy grinned to himself as he added a few drops of carrot juice to his simmering potion and stirred it carefully. He turned a page of _Potions in Politics_ and checked his results against the colour chart – it was just right. His Extralucidity potion was ready.

He bottled the potion and gathered his potion-making supplies, then checked that the coast was clear and left the disused broom-cupboard with the book under his arm.

He was perfectly aware that he shouldn't have that book. It was normally housed in the Restricted Section of the Library - not because it had any dark magic in it, but because of the potential for abuse. The official word was that unscrupulous students who wanted to sneak an advance look at their exam papers had been known to use the Extralucidity potion. It enabled them to look straight through the solid wood of the Professors' desks and read the documents locked inside.

Draco happened to know that the real reason was that a group of fourth years had used it to look straight through the oak door of the prefects' bathroom back in the Seventies, and that was what had given him the idea.

It hadn't been hard to persuade Snape to sign the book out for him. As teacher's pet, all he'd had to do was make up some story about a special interest in the diplomatic uses of Milk of Amnesia, and the permission slip was in his devious little hand.

He had, of course, skipped straight to the section on espionage and begun gathering the ingredients for the ultimate aid to spying. It was a simple recipe with no restricted ingredients, and had only taken twenty minutes to make. _No wonder they like to keep it a secret_, he mused, hurrying back to his dorm.

Hiding the potion under his bed, Draco withdrew a scrap of parchment from under his pillow. On it he had drawn a rough plan of the Quidditch locker rooms, and marked the wall that was closest to the Gryffindor briefing room. He grinned, placed the parchment on his bedside table, and prepared for bed.

***

The next morning Draco waited until Crabbe, Goyle and Zabini had left for breakfast, then retrieved the potion flask from under his bed and took a swig. He coughed – it tasted like petrol. Then his eyes began to hurt, and he couldn't seem to focus on anything. He squinted, and stared at a fixed point in space as he tried to let his eyes adjust. 

Then he realised – the reason why he hadn't been able to focus was that everything had become slightly transparent. Only objects in his peripheral vision seemed to be completely solid, and if he turned his head to look at anything directly, it started to look fuzzy and blurred. He looked around the room in amazement, staring at his heavy velvet bed-hangings until they seemed to turn to the finest gauze, then looked through them at the wall until it, too began to fade. However, it didn't become transparent, it just gotsort of faint. The potion didn't seem to be strong enough for him to look through a stone wall, or maybe he hadn't taken enough

He picked up the flask and swirled it speculatively. His plan to look though the wall of the Quidditch locker room and spy on opposing team strategies would not be successful if he didn't take enough of the potion, but on the other hand he didn't want to overdose. The footnote in the book warned of permanent blindness if he overdid it.

He was just debating the safety of another mouthful when there was a sharp tap on the door and Pansy Parkinson walked in. Draco nearly dropped the flask in shock.

Why weren't you at breakfast?' she demanded huffily. I thought you were going to help me finish my Potions homework. Now there isn't time, the class starts in ten minutes.'

Draco stared. Pansy's babbling was just a distant whine to him.

I'll have to hand it in incompleteI couldn't do question eight, and I've only done half of the equations because I couldn't remember the symbols for mouse teeth or Snapweed'

Draco had seen Pansy naked once before, in their third year when he had accidentally walked in on her using the boys' showers while the girl's bathroom was being re-fitted. _But she's certainlygrown, since then_, he pondered appreciatively. 

Well?' demanded Pansy.

Well what?' he answered automatically. Pansy's school robes seemed to have turned to nothing more than a faint shadow, fluttering attractively around her body as she moved.

Draco, will you please talk to my _face_!' she shouted.

Sorry,' he replied, snapping his attention to her furious expression and keeping it there with no small effort of will.

She gave him an exasperated look, then seemed to calm down. What's that, anyway?' she asked, indicating the flask in Draco's hand.

Oh, uhheadache remedy. I wasn't feeling well.' He nervously stuffed the potion flask into his bedside cabinet and locked it, then looked back at her innocently.

Oh. That's why you weren't at breakfast?' she replied, still scowling but sounding slightly sheepish. I suppose the last thing you needed was me coming in here and yawping at you. I'll leave you to it. Maybe Millie will let me copy her homework. I'll see you in Potions.'

Yeah, see you,' Draco said absently to her retreating bottom.

A slow smile spread across Draco's face. There was no rush, after all – the first formal Quidditch match was weeks away. There was surely no harm in seeing what fun could be had with a small dose of the potion before he started trying to look through walls. 

He leapt to his feet, and was shocked for a moment to find that he could see his own naked body through his robes. However, he could feel the reassuring warmth of the fabric. It reminded him that no one else could see what he could, and he chuckled gleefully. He stuffed his schoolbooks into his bag – there weren't many as it was Friday; there would only be classes in the morning.

_But I couldn't have picked better classes to have extra-sensitive vision for_, he thought gleefully. _Potions with the Gryffindors, and Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws. That means I'll get to see both the Patil twins (though sadly not together), Brown, Grangerand the lovely April Parry_. He allowed himself a brief fantasy about the new Ravenclaw Keeper, then closed his eyes and shook his head to clear the image.

_And that's just the girls!_ He hurried out of his dorm excitedly and descended the stairs two at a time. There were definitely times when batting for both sides had its advantages, and this was one such occasion.

As he made his way through the dungeon corridors he made a mental list of male specimens to look out for. _Finnigan, ThomasPotter! Oh, yes, there is a God! Now I'll get to see if he looks as good under his clothes as I have always liked to think he does_

The thought of Harry Potter's Quidditch-toned muscles made him quicken his pace. He reached the Potions classroom, took a deep breath and opened the door.

***

He froze. The students were already milling about, setting up cauldrons and collecting ingredients for today's potion, all blissfully unaware of their exposure. He felt like a Sultan in his own harem, staring around the room in delight.

Malfoy, stop grinning like an idiot and go to your bench. Tardiness is nothing to be pleased about!' growled Snape.

Draco jumped and turned towards the Professor.

Sorry, Sir. I ummI mean' _Gosh, who'd have thought it?_ I wasI mean I wasn't' _Not bad, Professorvery nice, in fact. Please don't stay sitting behind your desk all lesson_

Shut up and get to work. We're making a cure for sunburn. You'll be partnering Weasley.'

Draco humbly made his way to his bench and put down his bag. He cast a glance around the room, and his eyes came to rest on Parvati Patil. In the flesh, so to speak, she was everything he'd hoped she would be, and he let his gaze linger on her until she disappeared behind a thick cloud of steam from her cauldron. He blinked, trying to permanently fix the image in his memory, then turned towards the front of the room.

_Let's seewho else is worth a look? Not Longbottom – he evidently lives up to his name. Mmm, Finnigan! Lean and lovely_ and_gosh! Is that a shamrock tattoo on his arse?_

Weasley emerged from the storeroom with a jar of frogspawn and Draco stifled a giggle. _Well, if there was ever a doubt over whether he's a natural redhead, I think it's settled now, _he reflected.

Oh. You turned up, then?' observed Ron Weasley, frowning.

Luckily for you, yes I did,' replied Draco dryly. He inspected what Weasley had done so far and made a face. Picking up a bottle of nettle juice, he poured in a good measure and stirred the mixture carefully. You weren't really going to put frogspawn in there were you? _The aquatic unborn_ means fish-eggs, not frogspawn.'

Weasley glared at him and banged the jar down on the bench. Fine. You get the rest of the ingredients then, if you're so bloody clever. I'll stay here and stir it.'

Draco looked him up and down with mild interest. Freckly, aren't you?' he commented, then picked up the unnecessary jars and bottles to return to the storeroom. Weasley gave him a look of puzzled bemusement, then sat down and stirred the potion.

***

Draco entered the storeroom and set to work putting away the assortment of ingredients that Weasley had collected by mistake. While he was struggling to control a large box of very energetic jumping beans, he heard someone enter the room behind him. He resisted the temptation to look around - after all, he didn't know who it was. The last thing he needed while wrestling with a hundred over-active legumes was an eyeful of Millicent Bulstrode in the altogether.

He had almost finished, and was scanning the shelves for fish eggs when he heard a voice call from the classroom.

Harry, can you get some cactus spines, too?'

A familiar voice behind him replied, Okay, in a minute' and he stiffened, in every possible sense of the word.

He heard the clinks and scrapes of bottles and boxes being moved as Potter searched the shelves behind him. Slowly he turned, and stared. His jaw dropped.

Potter was standing with his back to Malfoy, one hand on his hip as he picked up jars to read the labels. The dim light in the storeroom threw the contours of his body into sharp relief, making him look as if he'd been drawn with charcoal. Malfoy raked his eyes over him and whimpered softly. His fingers itched to trace the sharp ridges of his shoulder blades, and the bumps of his spine, and those two slight hollows in his buttocks

His gaze lingered on said buttocks as Potter shifted to look on a different shelf, swearing softly and muttering something about the lack of proper labels. Then without warning or so much as a by-your-leave, Potter bent over and began rummaging through a large crate on the floor.

Draco dropped the frogspawn. He hardly noticed as the slimy gunge splattered over his shoes - he was too busy staring in fascination at the bum-that-lived.

Malfoy!' said a muffled voice from inside the crate.

He jumped. What?' he croaked breathlessly.

You had the nettle juice last – I saw you with it. Where did you put it?'

He blinked and tried to clear his head. bottom shelf,' he replied. Potter stood up and peered at the row of bottles on the lowest shelf, making Draco realise his mistake.

_Top_ shelf. I meant top shelf. Sorry, I don't know why I said'

He gave up trying to talk. He pointed at the nettle juice, grabbed a jar of something that looked like fish eggs and fled.

***

For the rest of the lesson, Draco tried with little success to keep his mind on his work. It was not easy with seemingly naked students everywhere he looked. Not that he was complaining – he just thought that there might be more convenient times to have fun with the Extralucidity potion.

_Hmm. It would have been an idea to make the antidote before experimenting_he mused. He made a mental note to look it up the minute classes were over, but was distracted by Weasley moaning about the consistency of their potion.

It's too runnyI knew it would be. You put too much nettle juice in!'

Calm down, Ginger-nuts,' muttered Draco. I haven't put the fish eyes in yet. Keep stirring and watch to see if it changes colour – it should be blue. And remember it's going to get very thick, very quickly, so it'll be hard to stir with that little spoon. Fetch one of those long wooden ones.'

Weasley looked incensed at the order to fetch' but he did it anyway, returning a moment later brandishing a large wooden spoon like a whipping cane.

Draco ignored him. He had just noticed that Snape was no longer behind his desk, which meant that he was doing the rounds to check on everyone's progress. He spun in his seat, but couldn't spot the Professor among the students and billowing clouds of vapour.

Then two things happened, rather unfortunately, at once. As he turned back to his potion, a shadow fell across the bench. He looked up and found himself staring at a part of the Potions master that he had never thought to see. 

At exactly the same moment Weasley snapped, Well? Is that long enough for you?'

His jaw nearly hit the floor. yes. Long' he squeaked. _Long enough for two or three people, I should think _I mean' he tore his eyes away from Snape and stared into the cauldron, hoping that the heat from the bubbling potion would explain away his flushed face.

Well it'll just have to do. It's the longest one I could find,' muttered Ron.

Stop waving it about, Weasley, and put it to use,' growled Snape, eliciting a choked giggle from Draco. Snape shot him a malevolent look and narrowed his eyes shrewdly. Have you been trying out cheering charms on yourself, Malfoy? Wipe off that idiotic grin and explain to me what you are going to do next.'

?' murmured Draco blankly. Snape calmly gestured at the bubbling cauldron. Oh! Right. UhWeasley's going to stir it while I add the fish eggs, a few at a time until it turns blue and getsthicker.'

Snape stepped closer and folded his arms, indicating that he intended to watch the proceedings. Draco wished he would stand anywhere but in his direct line of sight. It was impossible to keep his eyes on the potion when _Snape Junior_ was only inches away.

He shakily began spooning the pungent, gelatinous contents of the jar into the cauldron. Weasley kept stirring but the mixture didn't seem to be getting thicker, nor was it turning blue. Snape was ominously drumming his fingers against his own arm.

Draco gulped and added one more spoonful. Abruptly the potion turned bright purple and gave off a cloud of smoke that smelled strongly of vinegar. He coughed and glared at Weasley. You didn't stir it fast enough – I've put too much in, now.'

Ron glared at him. It's not my fault! You were the one shovelling it in great big dollops. You weren't even watching what you were doing, you dozy pillock!'

Enough! Ten points from Gryffindor, Weasley. Keep your insulting remarks to yourself. As for you, Malfoy – if you _had_ been paying proper attention you would have noticed that you have been adding fish _eyes_ to your potion. Far short of curing sunburn, I suspect that this concoction is suitable for no more than cleaning paintbrushes. 

I want a detailed account of what went wrong, and how the potion _should_ have been made, on my desk first thing Monday morning. And that means at least a foot of parchment, Weasley, as opposed to the pitiful eight inches you saw fit to hand in for your Polyjuice assignment.'

With that he stalked off and barked at the class to begin clearing up.

Ron's face was a mask of fury as he glared at Snape's retreating back. Slimy Slytherin bastard!' he muttered. I notice he only took points from me, and _you_ were the one who cocked up the potion! Just because you're in _his_ house'

Shut up, Weasley. Who said life was fair? Anyway, being a Slytherin didn't save me from the extra homework, did it?' He crammed his books into his bag and waved his wand over the bench to clean it.

Snape was reaching up to wipe the blackboard clean, and Draco watched in fascination until Ron gave him a shove into the stream of exiting students. He allowed himself to be jostled along; his eyes still drifting over pale skin and lean, sinewy muscles. He was vaguely aware of Ron muttering behind him – apparently he was still going on about the extra homework assignment.

Typical! A foot of parchment! Only Snape would think eight inches is pathetic'

_I can see why he might think so_mused Draco, giving Snape one last appreciative leer before being swept out into the corridor by the crowd. Then he took a deep breath and cleared the image from his head.

With some regret, he watched as Harry left with the other Gryffindors to go to Herbology, then he sighed, turned on his heel and followed the crowd of Slytherin bottoms to Transfiguration.

***

Trying to pay attention in Potions had been bad enough, but Transfiguration was next to impossible. Between episodes of gawping helplessly at April Parry, and trying to look anywhere but directly at Professor McGonagall, Draco struggled to keep his mind on what he was supposed to be doing.

As if to deliberately make his life difficult, McGonagall had decided to introduce the class to a new technique that was notoriously hard to master. Occluded Transfiguration was fiendishly tricky and required intense concentration – something that Draco was having no small amount of trouble with.

To make matters worse, she called Draco to the front for an active demonstration. Placing a small china model of a dog behind a screen on the desk, she instructed Draco to transfigure it.

It doesn't matter what you turn it into,' she reassured him. The important thing is to fix the ornament in your mind so that you can focus the spell onto it, even without being able to see it.'

He was quietly confident – after all, nobody else knew that he could see straight through the screen and would be able to focus a spell on the ornament with no trouble at all.

He tried his best, but when April sat back in her chair and stretched lazily, nothing could have been further from his mind than porcelain spaniels. Blurting out the incantation, he knew instantly that it hadn't worked. 

McGonagall reached behind the screen and retrieved the unscathed ornament, then looked around the room in puzzlement. 

Well, your spell didn't look as if it dissipated so I think it must have transfigured _something_,' she commented.

Draco felt a rising sense of dread and panic. He thought so too. In fact he was beginning to suspect that he had transfigured his own nipples into hazelnuts, but he wasn't about to admit it in front of the whole class. He decided to go straight to the Hospital Wing after class and have it dealt with confidentially.

He shrugged innocently and sat back at his desk, where he watched a succession of unknowingly exposed Ravenclaws troop to the front of the class. One of them managed to turn the Spaniel into a roller skate, but it turned out that he'd only managed it because he was tall enough to look over the screen, so it didn't count.

***

Draco decided that the novelty of the Extralucidity potion was definitely starting to wear off. Entertaining as it was, the results were far too distracting. 

_If I'm not careful, I'm really going to make a fool of myself before long_, he thought as he trudged to the Hospital Wing. _Either that or I'm going to see something that could traumatise me for lifelike Hagrid. Or FilchUgh!_

He shuddered and rounded a corner, then stopped, staring in amazement at a fascinatingly hideous creature that had appeared at the foot of the stairs. It was small and scrawny, with wrinkled pink skin and yellow eyes, and it hissed and snarled as he approached. He'd never seen anything like it_or had he_...?

Just as it began to dawn on him he heard a sound which made his skin crawl.

Who's there, my Sweet? Students running about the castle when they should be at lunch? We'll see about that'

_Filch! Oh, hell. That's all I need_

Draco leapt over the apparently naked Mrs Norris and pelted up the stairs. He had no idea if the caretaker was following him, but there was no power on earth that could have made him look. He kept going until he arrived, panting, at the Hospital wing. Gasping for breath outside the door, he prepared for his next ordeal – Madam Pomfrey.

***

The experience in the Hospital wing wasto say the least. Explaining his unfortunate condition to Madam Pomfrey whilst trying not to look at her was something of a challenge. But that wasn't the worst of it. She was rather busy with an epidemic of Griffinpox at the time, and delegated his treatment to her rather handsome new deputy – a newly qualified Healer named Pike.

Draco sat in a state of silent mortification as Healer Pike (call me Howard!') examined him carefully. Then the Healer picked up a small pot of slippery, pink ointment that smelled of vanilla and began applying it to what Madam Pomfrey called the affected areas'.

Even in their vegetative state, Draco's affected areas responded very favourably to being treated in this fashion, as did another part of his anatomy – the one that had been begging for attention all morning.

_Oh, please don't noticeand don't DO that! _He thought desperately, squeezing his eyes shut as the healer stood up and leaned across him for a tissue.

I'll give you some of this if you want,' Howard said casually.

_what?_'

Restorative ointment. It's for reversing localised physical effects of magic. If you apply it yourself once every half-hour, you should be back to normal by teatime.'

With a sigh of relief, Draco dressed as fast as he could. He was still tingling in all his most sensitive places and he needed to find a secluded place with a lockable door where he couldrelease the tension.

He virtually ran from the Hospital Wing, then hurried along the corridors at random, desperately trying all the doors until he found one that opened. If he had looked more closely, he might have noticed something familiar about the room and its location - opposite a garish tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy. However he was in no condition to notice anything of the kind; he entered and slammed the door behind him, locking it with a sturdy-looking bolt.

Turning to take in his surroundings, his jaw dropped in disbelief. The room was small, softly lit, and furnished only with a small table and a large reclining armchair. On the table was a flask containing what looked like oil of slipwort, a pack of Wizard-Wipes™ and a pile of magazines. He indulged in a brief moment of grateful amazement, then dropped his trousers, leapt into the chair and made himself _extremely_ comfortable.

***

Feeling about a thousand times better, Draco ambled towards the Great Hall for lunch. After his detour to the hospital wing and the_sojourn_ in that rather handy little room, he had missed most of it. However if he hurried he might at least manage to get some dessert

Oi Draco! Where've you been? Come on, we're supposed to be starting at two.'

Draco whipped round and was met by the sight of three_members_ of the Slytherin Quidditch team. They were equipped with brooms, and Warrington had a Quaffle under his arm; from this, Draco deduced that they were on their way to the pitch. He had nothing else to go on because their green Quidditch robes (which they were presumably wearing) were, of course, invisible.

sorry, _what_ exactly are we starting at two?' he asked warily, trying to keep his eyes above Warrington's waist. He knew there wasn't a practice scheduled, and formal matches were only ever played on Saturdays, but he was beginning to get that ominous feeling that indicated he was supposed to be doing something and had no idea what it was.

Don't tell me you've forgotten!' sighed Warrington. You talked Johnson into playing a friendly this afternoon. _I_ didn't want to, it was _you_ who said it would be useful.'

_Bugger!_

Oh, hell, Warrington. Look, umm, I've kind of got a lot on my mind at the moment and I'm not feeling so goodjust back from Pomfrey's, actually and I'

Oh no you don't! This was _your_ idea, Malfoy. How's it going to look if we don't turn up? Get downstairs and change, and we'll see on the pitch in fifteen minutes.'

With that, the three Chasers left. Draco stared after them, then made a dash for the dungeons. He had completely forgotten that he had arranged an informal match against Gryffindor. He had talked Johnson into it on the grounds that it would be good practice, and it would demonstrate a sense of good sportsmanship. Madam Hooch had been threatening to eliminate the Gryffindor/Slytherin match from the Championship due to the ever-increasing enmity between the two teams, so Angelina had reluctantly accepted.

Of course, Draco's real reason was that he had acquired brand new Super-deluxe Firebolts for the team, and had received private training over the holidays which had left him feeling supremely confident. The idea of the friendly' match was to put the fear of God into the Gryffindors before the formal matches began.

However, he needed to sort out his little concentration problem before he could even contemplate setting foot on the pitch.

He rummaged under his bed, retrieving _Potions in Politics_ and turning to the page where he had marked the recipe for antidote to the Extralucidity potion.

Oh _Bollocks_!' he murmured emphatically. While the list of ingredients was short, and the technique simple, he had failed to notice a key point in the last line of the instructions:

_After the boiling phase, remove from the heat and leave to stand for three weeks before bottling._

He slammed the book shut in frustration. His rather ambitious plan to quickly whip up the antidote in his portable cauldron was not going to come off.

He frantically flipped through _A guide to Self-Bewitchment_, looking for a charm that would prevent his being distracted by the sight of thirteen naked students on broomsticks. However all he could find was the _Autocastratum_ charm, which_well_. The words Not Bloody Likely' came to mind_._

Sighing resignedly, he changed into his Quidditch robes, wishing he had time for another visit to that handy little room before the game.

Just behave' he muttered to his own crotch as he dressed. 

***

_Oh. My. God._

Draco stood motionless in the middle of the Quidditch pitch and waited for Warrington to finish squabbling with Angelina about whether or not it was acceptable to have the Slytherin reserve Beater as referee.

_I will SO not be able to concentrate_he worried, forcibly tearing his eyes away from the Gryffindor Chasers.

He began to quietly discard the idea of showing the Gryffindors some flash moves and nerve grinding manoeuvres. Much as he wanted to leave them shaking in their invisible shoes before the first formal match, it would be far more important to just catch the Snitch as soon as possible and get the hell back to the Castle.

_And to do that, I need to stay on my broom, keep my eyes open for the Snitch, and NOT gawp at the Chasers_

It wouldn't be too difficult, surely? He only had to stay out of the way, far above the action with the Quaffle, and look out for that little glint of gold. In fact the only player he would need to keep a close eye on was

_Oh God_

Potter was leaning casually on his broomstick and idly drawing in the sand with his toe while he waited to get started. After a few minutes he yawned and stretched, then raked his hands through his hair impatiently.

Draco closed his mouth abruptly before he could start to drool.

_I'm doomed_he mourned. _At this rate, the only way I'll spot the Snitch is if it lands in Potter's lapand then, of course, it'll be too late_

Fine!' snapped Angelina, pulling Draco back to reality. He surmised that an agreement of sorts had been reached regarding the referee situation, and prepared to take off.

Fourteen players took to the air, and the referee released the balls.

Draco watched in spite of himself as the Gryffindors took possession. Quick as lightning, the Quaffle was passed from Chaser to Chaser in a reddish blur. Barely ten seconds into the game, Katie scored; she was immediately hugged enthusiastically by Alicia.

_Gosh! _Thought Draco. He helplessly watched the spectacle of two naked Chasers cuddling in mid-air, and shifted uncomfortably on his broomstick. He thought longingly about a certain comfortable reclining chair, but that only made his situation worse.

Suddenly he snapped his attention back to the game. A flicker of gold had just flashed past his eyes, and he had heard the whirring of tiny magical wings – the Snitch was close.

He twisted on his broom, looking frantically left and rightand up and down. He was just working on backwards and forwards when a Bludger clipped his broom handle and sent him spinning across the pitch.

He looked back desperately but there was no sign of the Snitch. Instead he found himself staring at Warrington, who was gripping his broom tightly with muscular thighs and reaching up with both hands to intercept the Quaffle.

Draco's mind boggled. A sensible voice in his head told him to look away and concentrate on what he was supposed to be doing, but the message seemed to be taking a long time to get through to his eyes.

Eventually a Beater's club swung dangerously close to his head, distracting him from his thoughts. He ducked to avoid it and narrowly avoided another one. It seemed that the Beaters from both teams were engaged in their own little battle, away from the main game. They were hitting the Bludgers viciously at each other, at close range, and Draco was caught in the middle of it.

He waited for a slight pause in the relentless Beater-battering (_Madam Hooch would never have allowed it_he thought indignantly), then escaped by spiralling downwards until he was nearly on the ground.

He sighed with relief and mopped his brow with a sleeve. Returning his attention to the players above, he froze in panic. 

Potter was bearing down on him, a look of furious determination on his face. Normally Draco's reflexes would have been quick enough to get him out of harm's way. However there was nothing normal about this game, and Draco's reflexes, just like the rest of him, seemed to be much more interested in the fine figure of a certain naked seeker plummeting towards him with outstretched arms.

He stared, wide eyed with moronic amazement, then found himself lying flat on his back on the ground with the wind knocked out of him. Potter was sprawled face down on top of him, and Draco was thinking that all things considered, it wasn't a wholly unpleasant position to be in.

_So this must be why it's called a Friendly'_, he decided.

Harry lifted his head and looked down at Draco, grinning. Draco gave him a wobbly smile in return, hoping he didn't look _too_ foolish, lying there helpless with sand in his hair. Then he realised belatedly why Harry was grinning.

He slowly turned his head to one sideand saw Harry's hand clutching the fluttering Snitch, right next to his head.

***

Trudging dejectedly back towards his Common Room, Draco resolved to set to work on the antidote right away. Fun though it was to be able to see anyone and everyone in their skin, he had decided that it just wasn't worth it.

In one day he had failed a Potions assignment, had an embarrassing Transfiguration mishap, and lost a Quidditch match in what was quite possibly record time.

Any more days like this would probably ruin his reputation, not to mention his academic record.

He began mentally working through the list of ingredients he'd need for the antidote, intending to take a detour via the students' store cupboard.

Mr Malfoy!' said a voice from the corridor to his right.

_Oh noMcGonagall! _He debated whether to pretend he hadn't heard and make a dash for it, or to stay put and hope that whatever she wanted wouldn't take long.

Staying put won, as he was still aching from his close encounter with the ground on the Quidditch pitch, and running anywhere seemed like a painful option.

Professor McGonagall emerged from the shadowy corridor and stood sternly in front of him. Draco looked awkwardly at the floor.

Well, I am glad to see you are out of hospital, Mr Malfoy. I performed some calculations after your spell seemed to disappear uncast, and when I discovered what must have happened I was quite worried. I trust that you areon the way to a full recovery?'

Draco looked down at his own chest. Everything was looking almost normalperhaps just a little browner than usual? He could feel the restorative ointment tingling away. He bit his lip and nodded.

I understand that my class was not the only one in which you had problems today. I have it from Professor Snape that you confused two very basic potion ingredients and subsequently failed to complete the preparation? Also the_Mr Malfoy_! Will you _please_ look at me when I'm speaking to you? _Thank you_! As I was saying, the view from my Office window suggested to me that you had some difficulty concentrating on your Quidditch game.'

Draco kept his eyes on her face, and only on her face.

I uhit's nothing. I'm fine'

I realise that I am not your head of house, and you don't have to tell me anything that you don't want to. But as deputy headmistress it is my duty to pay attention to each and every student's wellbeing. I would not be doing my job if I didn't notice that you have something on your mind, and it is interfering with your performance.'

I'll be alright, I just need to'

I think you ought to have a word with Professor Snape. Whatever the problem is, I am sure it is nothing that can't be sorted out between you and your House tutor.'

NO!' exclaimed Draco involuntarily. The thought of having a cosy little chat and a cup of tea with a seemingly naked Snape was too much for Draco. He was amazed with himself for thinking it, but he was starting to get really fed up with hot naked bodies. They were making his life hell.

Professor McGonagall looked surprised for a moment, then her expression softened, and she started leading Draco along the corridor towards a flight of stairs. 

I quite understand,' she said as she walked. Professor Snape can be a littleabrasive. If it is a sensitive matter, perhaps he is not the best person to talk to.'

She ascended the stairs ahead of him. Draco closed his eyes.

_Oh, no –why can't she walk behind me! There is nobody in the world I would like to see naked less than this womanbar NONE!_

I think you should talk to Professor Dumbledore.'

_Okaybar one, maybe._

Professor McGonagall led him to a large stone Gargoyle and said, Dolly Mixtures'. The Gargoyle slid aside to reveal a moving staircase. Draco found himself being ushered onto the staircase by a beaming Professor McGonagall, who obviously thought she was doing him a favour.

He sighed and gave her a half-hearted smile, which turned into a grimace of dread as he ascended.

He wondered if he might be able to perform a Conjunctivitis curse on himself before reaching the top, but before he knew it, his feet touched the solid wood of the landing.

He firmly resolved to make the damned antidote the _minute_ he got back to Slytherin. Then he promised himself faithfully that he would _never_ mess with an illicit potion again.

He gulped, took a deep breath and knocked on the door, preparing to be embarrassed to within an inch of his life.

***

Mercifully, Dumbledore was seated behind his desk. Also, to Draco's very great relief, his long white beard appeared to be completely impervious to the effects of the Extralucidity potion.

Ah, Draco' acknowledged the Headmaster, gesturing for him to sit down. Draco got the distinct impression that he had been expecting him.

I understand that you have been having some difficulty concentrating, Draco. In both your academic studies and extra-curricular activities, I believe?'

Draco tried to casually brush off the statement. Oh, it's nothing, Professor. I've just been rather tired today.'

Dumbledore gave him a cool, slightly amused look, but didn't say anything.

I uhI mean, I'll be fine once I get some rest. That's what I need – I just need to get back to my dorm,' stammered Draco nervously. The piercing blue eyes seemed to be peering right into his mind and reading his thoughts.

Perhaps this will help,' said Dumbledore, sliding a small bottle across the desk towards him.

Draco picked it up and sniffed the contents curiously. 

What is it?' he asked, wrinkling his nose at the strong, flowery aroma.

A simple potion, which I believe will sort out yourlittle problem,' replied Dumbledore, his expression unreadable.

Draco cautiously raised the bottle to his lips. _Probably a concentration draughtor maybe a wakefulness potion, _he reassured himself. He took a sip and swallowed with difficulty – it tasted like soap.

He didn't feel any different, but he gave Dumbledore a politely grateful smile and returned the bottle to the desk. As he did so he noticed that he could no longer see his own knees – they were covered by his Quidditch robes, as were all the other parts of his body.

His expression turned to one of horror as he looked at Dumbledore and realised what had happened. The headmaster was now wearing a striped woolly bobble hat, which clashed horribly with a set of voluminous orange robes and a crocheted shawl.

There was no question about it – Dumbledore had just given him the antidote to the Extralucidity potion_and that means that he knows what I did_

Draco bit his lip in horror, wondering how he was going to get out of this one. Dumbledore stood up and walked around the desk, and Draco noted that a pair of pink fluffy slippers was included in the Headmaster's _ensemble_. He knew that the old fool's dress sense was somewhat eccentric, but this just took the cake

Draco, surely you must be aware that there are certain books in the school library which are very strictly controlled?' said Dumbledore calmly. When such a book is signed out from the library, it is normal practice for the staff to keep a close eye on the student who has borrowed it. This is primarily for his or her own safety.'

Draco sighed and mentally kicked himself. Previous students had used the potion to cheat on their exams – _Of course_ anyone who read the book would be watched.

Dumbledore continued. From the reports I received from your teachers today, it was not difficult to deduce what you had done. If proof were needed, it was your total lack of a reaction to my apparel when you entered the room. The most plausible explanation for that was that you simply didn't see it.'

Draco allowed himself a smidgen of grudging admiration. _The cunning old coot!_

Fortunately, as there are at least two or three attempts to use Extralucidity potion in every school year, Professor Snape keeps a stock of the necessary antidote ready-prepared. That is, as you have no doubt deduced, what you have just taken.'

Draco took in all of this information in guilty silence. He could have explained that he had never intended to use the potion for voyeuristic pleasure, or even to cheat on his examsbut he didn't think that his true motive would be considered preferable to either of these, so he kept his mouth shut.

It didn't seem to be necessary to offer any explanations, anyway. Dumbledore was still talking as he paced the room, absently twirling his wand between his fingers.

I have already arranged for a House-elf to retrieve the book from your dormitory and return it to the library. Any remaining potion will also, naturally, be disposed of. I don't think there would be anything to be gained by deducting house points or giving you detention – that would only make your housemates curious as to why you are being punished. However, you have seen things whilst under the influence of the potion which were not meant for you to see, and it would be inappropriate for you to even retain the memory of them. So_Obliviate_!'

***

Draco looked around the room in puzzlement. _Wherewhat am I doing in here_? He wondered. _Wasn't I just playing Quidditch? OhI fell off my broom, didn't I?_

He shuddered with embarrassment. How could he have lost his balance after all that extra flying tuition? It was mortifying!

Well, Mr Malfoy, if you are sure that you were not hurt when you fell from your broom, I suggest that you return to your House and change out of your Quidditch robes ready for dinner.'

Draco turned to reply to the Headmaster, then stopped and frowned. _What the hell is the dippy old codger wearing_? He forgot what he had intended to say, but Dumbledore didn't seem to be expecting a reply. Instead he observed Draco's shocked face with an expression of satisfaction, and opened the door.

Good day, Mr Malfoy,' he said amiably.

***

Draco wandered the corridors of the castle feeling dazed and disorientated. He couldn't quite get a handle on anything that had happened to him since the previous day.

He arrived back at his dorm and flung himself down on the bed in frustration. A breeze wafted through the open window, causing a piece of parchment to flutter off his bedside table and land on his pillow. He picked it up and scrutinised it. It appeared to be a plan of the Quidditch locker rooms.

Something stirred in the back of his mind. The last thing that he could remember clearly was being on the brink of coming up with a plana brilliant plansomething to do with Quidditcha way to spy on the Gryffindors' strategies

For some reason a vivid image of Harry Potter flying his broomstick naked leapt into his head unbidden. 

His eyes flew open. _Where did that come from_? 

The last traces of brilliant plans and Quidditch locker rooms evaporated out of his head. The vision of Harry had prompted another vague memory – one involving a comfortable chair in a warm room with a big lock on the door. It was the kind of room where one could be alone with ones'_thoughts_, but Draco's memory of it was so indistinct, he wasn't sure that he hadn't dreamed it.

He glanced down at the parchment again and tried to make sense of it, but it was no good. It meant nothing to him.

However, an idea was forming. In fact, one might go so far as to call it a brilliant plan. If that fabulous little room that he kept thinking about were actually real, it would be extremely useful. He was certain that nobody else knew about it, otherwise surely it would be the stuff of legend, and every boy (and possibly girl) in the castle would be hell-bent on looking for it. If he could only find itand perhaps gradually let a select few in on the secret, word would spread. Every Hogwarts boy for generations would know his name and thank him. He'd be famous!

Resolutely he screwed up the parchment and lobbed it into the wastepaper basket.

Then he set out determinedly to explore the castle. _Sod spying on the Gryffindors,_ he thought to himself as he searched. _They're bound to win anyway_.

***

Of course, he didn't find it. The Room of Requirement only appears to those who have genuine need of it, but Draco didn't know that. Otherwise he might have dwelled on the image of Harry on his broomstick, until he did have a genuine need.

If only it would occur to him to go looking for it late at night, when he has been haunted by strange dreams of Parvati Patil standing naked in a cloud of smoke in the Potions classroom. Or of April Parry in a similar state of undress, smiling at him as she stretches languidly. Or Seamus and his shamrock tattooAngelina reaching for the Quaffle

_Then_ he'd be able to find it.


End file.
